


All that Glitters I Give to You

by Googly_Peepers



Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Brief asfuck Midas/Drift, Brutus is a soft boi, Don't come for me please, Dry Humping, Fucking Against a Window, Gay Sex, He's all versions of himself, Heavy Petting, I don't know man, I still love him dearly, I'm a jaded old fuck now, I'm honestly just a simp, Light S&M, M/M, Making Out, Masturbating, Midas is emotionally constipated, Oral Sex, Rimming, Skye is a good friend, Skye is a precious bean, Smut, Sub Midas, There will be more tags, This could be a one shot, Wild Card isn't just one character, bisexual midas?, does anything matter, dom brutus, eating ass and driving fast, gay brutus, honestly it don't even matter, midas gets drunk, midas has ptsd sorta, midas is a tease, no beta we die like men, non-canon, power bottom midas, slight exhibitionism on Midas's part, slowish burn, sort of made up characters?, straight simpin'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25384288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Googly_Peepers/pseuds/Googly_Peepers
Summary: Stress is at an all time high at the Agency. Multiple attempts on Midas's life have been made, forcing him to reevaluate his priorities. So when Skye recommends Midas takes some time to unwind on his yacht, he accepts. But he might get more out of it than he bargained for.
Relationships: Brutus/Midas (Fortnite), Drift/Midas (Fortnite)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Haven't been on Archive in a long ass time. Do I know what I'm doing? No. Do I know why I'm writing porn about a video game? Definitely not. But it certainly do be like that sometimes. I had fun writing it regardless so I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. If anyone has any suggestions for this story or for a new one please let me know. I've been in a very write-y mood lately. Also not sure I'm going to continue it so I guess let me know if that's a thing you want.

“I think someone is here,” said the man with golden hands as he tightened the grip on his weapon. He pressed his finger lightly down on the trigger in preparation. 

In a flash, the gold that covered his hands enveloped his whole body, including his suit, just as a sniper round buzzed past his ear. He grimaced at the sudden chill it forced into his skin

“Shi--!” he yelped and threw himself against the closest wall. The golden man sucked in a breath before peeking out the window adjacent to the wall behind him. He brought his drum gun up to his face, waiting for a glimpse of the figure who shot at him. From his waistband he pulled a now golden walkie-talkie. 

“Shots fired from the north, about point two klicks out. I want two squads out there, one on each side to flank him from his east and west,” he commanded. In the distance, he could hear the clamoring footsteps of his henchmen and his voice crackle through their radios. 

“Be careful, Midas! Can’t have you getting shot now!” said Skye through the walkie-talkie. 

Midas snorted. As if he would let that happen. 

The golden man shimmied himself up against the wall to stand and looked back out the window. He could see his men closing in on the assassin’s position. Their white suits became obscured over the hill making him lose sight of their positions but still he stared. For a while there was silence and he realized how hunched over he’d become trying to get a glimpse of his men. He straightened his posture and adjusted his tie with his free hand. 

Finally, the first gun shot popped off. Although, it was a little closer than Midas was expecting. Then the flurry of gunfire began, drowning out the calm, typical drone of the Agency’s innerworkings. Midas ran to the nearest door, barely scanning his face, and pushed his way outside. He readied his gun as he scanned the area, pointer finger prepared on the trigger. Near the helipad, just behind the Agency’s porch, Midas could hear the struggles of his henchmen shooting and groaning. He peered over the railing down to where the river met the grass and saw the assassin in a standoff with two henchmen. Without wasting a moment, he pointed his drum gun and fired two shots, one for each eye. The man folded into himself and dropped, grabbing at his eyes before lifelessly face planting into the ground. The ghost men looked back toward their boss then to their injured comrades.

“What the hell happened?” screamed Midas. 

“Sir, it wasn't just the one guy, sir,” answered one of the injured men. Blood gushed out from between his fingers as he tried covering the hole in his shoulder. 

Midas brought a golden hand to his head and tried focusing his mind. Slowly, he could feel the cold make its way out from his skin as it returned to flesh and blood. He let out a heavy sigh. 

“Okay then. You three,” Midas said, pointing at the nearest henchmen. “Take these injured men inside and make sure they are taken care of. The rest of you, I want your reports of this incident written out by 17:00. Understand? You three can drop off your reports at 18:30.” 

Midas turned to make his way back inside but stopped. The attacks on the Agency had been getting more and more frequent. He found himself turning completely to gold more often. He thought about his agents safety more often and, for a moment, his lack of love life. Before another bullet could make its way past, or worse, into his head, he walked back inside. 

“Skye,” called Midas, “where are Maya, and Meowscles?” 

Skye looked over the railing of the second floor. She smiled at Midas as he pushed past several rushing henchmen. 

“Uh, don’t you remember?” she asked as she made her way down the stairs to meet him. 

Midas knew that Skye’s teasing tone was just that, teasing, but he couldn’t help the way it made him roll his eyes. 

“Oh, what? You think I remember everything that goes on around here? I have a lot to do and very little time to do it all,” Midas snapped. 

Skye’s smile didn’t falter but grew sympathetic. She put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you seem pretty stressed,” said Skye. “Like, dang, I can feel the tension in your shoulders just by looking at ya! Maybe you should take some time off.”

Midas went to respond but Skye put a hand up to cut him off. 

“Seriously, I think one almost-bullet-to-the-head is enough for one day. We can take care of things around here. _I_ can take care of things around here. Okay?” 

Her smile was soft and the hand on his shoulder radiated a warmth that was very convincing. Midas put his hand up to his face to check his hair in the reflection of his golden palm. It was messy and he looked like he could use a shower, or better yet, a bath. He let the tension in his shoulders relax and did his best to return Skye’s smile but he could tell he just appeared tired. 

“Alright,” he relented. “You promise you can take things from here?”

“Of course! When have I ever steered you wrong?” Skye paused. “Don’t answer that.” 

Midas laughed. 

“Well, I’ll go get myself ready,” he told her. 

“Oh, wait,” Skye said to Midas before he turned away. “One more thing, you should probably bring someone with you. Ya know, for extra protection. Especially since you almost got shot today. It might make you feel double safe, help all that relaxing you're gonna be doing.”

“Skye, I appreciate your concern, but I have plenty of crew on board. It’ll be fine,” Midas told her, and it sounded like a promise, but he could tell by her expression that she wasn't satisfied. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before going to his office. 

The inside of his office was completely off limits to all other personnel working at the Agency. No one, including Skye, Maya, Brutus, or even Meowscles, saw the inside of it. Even though it was on the first floor and there were constant patrols outside the floor to ceiling windows, which were one-way glass, no one could get a glimpse inside. Midas chalked it up to safety precautions rather than paranoia. After all, on many occasions he spotted henchmen trying to not-so-subtly peep in through the corners of the glass. 

He fumbled around his office for a while, sorting through papers and organizing on autopilot. Figuring he shouldn’t be a total bum for the next 24 hours, he put some important files into his sling and threw it over his shoulder. In the background he heard Skye make an announcement over the radio about a debriefing in conference room A. Raking a golden hand through his hair, he opened the door just enough to slip out before making sure it was tightly secured and locked. He walked out to the helipad where a pilot was waiting for him, hand outstretched with an aviation headset. Midas took it with a nod and boarded the chopper. It was a fairly brief ride to his yacht and yet Midas couldn’t wait to get out of the helicopter. Thoughts of targeted bullets whizzing past kept intruding into his brain. Those damn Shadow spies. Midas snickered to himself and let his head thump against his seat. As if anyone would really call them spies. Sure, they were organized, but they shouldn’t be worth a name, let alone a thought in his head. They had been a nuisance but they were never going to take control of the Agency.

Finally, they landed on the yacht and Midas wasted no time removing the headset and hustling inside. The normally riotous bustle of partygoers and chatter of financial donors was replaced with the quiet clackings of ghost henchmens’ steps on the tiled floors. Midas glanced up at the twenty foot statue of himself and remembered that it was once made of stone, then did a quick scan from right to left before entering his room. 

It was as luxurious as a suite on a ship could get. The bed was on a little platform with steps leading up to it and was framed by tall windows that were of course one-way glass. The carpet was soft and covered the whole floor except for the corner where fine white marble surrounded a hot tub-style bath. Midas threw his sling onto the bed and took a few more steps into the room before stopping. Skye relentlessly lectured him about the importance of breathing and meditation. So, he took a deep breath in and let it flow out of him slow and controlled. His golden fingers worked through the knot in his tie, unraveling it but not pulling it all the way off. It dangled over his shoulders as he turned on the water for a bath. As the water rushed out of the spickets he tossed in some epsom salts he hoped would help give a spa-ish atmosphere. He finally abandoned his tie along with his holsters and vest. With each article that fell to the ground he could already feel some of the stress easing out of him. 

He walked back to the bath and felt the water. Pulling back his hand with a hiss, he adjusted it to be a little cooler. The water might have been a good temperature for the rest of his body, but his hands, which were permanently gold, conducted temperature a lot more than his flesh. Sometimes it made bathing a little annoying. Still, he was determined to enjoy himself. 

When the bath was full, Midas carefully stepped in and shuffled over to the corner where a lounger style seat with jets along the back awaited. He sat and let himself sink into the water, watching as steam rose from the surface in little wispy ribbons. Midas could feel the gold of his hands soak in the heat from the bath and he ran them along his naked body. He took a deep breath in, heavy breath out. 

Skye was right. It really wasn’t often that Midas got to relax and as soon as his last breath left him, he could tell he really did need a break. For a moment, he thought about following one of the guided meditations she sent him. Then he remembered he was naked and alone and wasn’t going to be disturbed for at least a full day. And the room itself had a sort of aphrodisiac effect on him since it was the place he usually took _special_ guests... when he had them. His cock flopped itself over as the blood started to rush in, perking it up. 

“Ah, fuck it,” Midas said to himself. 

He ran his golden hands over his body again, taking extra time around the insides of his pale, lithe thighs. The warmth from his metallic fingers forced goosebumps to rise at the nape of his neck. He liked to be teased as much as the next man but it wasn’t long before he took himself in his hands and lazily stroked. A low moan ran past his lips and a comfortable blush settled over his nose and cheeks. Midas ran a wet hand over his face and the back of his neck in hopes to calm the goose bumps before reaching down to give his balls a tug. He could really feel himself unwinding and he picked up the pace. Some of his partners in the past complained that his metal hands were too rough, but to him they felt like magic around his cock, even better up his ass on occasion. 

Midas groaned and let his head fall back against the side of the tub with a loud thunk. His legs stretched out on reaction which made him slip further under the water but he didn’t care. The familiar tightening of his stomach muscles forced another loud moan out of him. Some of the briny water slipped into his mouth. He tried spitting it out but it just dribbled down his chin. 

Before he could finish, the door burst open. His hands rushed off his dick so fast water splashed over the edge of the tub and soaked the tile. His whole body seized up as the gold overtook his body from head to toe. Without realizing what a bad idea it was, he stood with his erect cock waving about. He grabbed at his dick and thighs in an attempt to hide himself but to no avail. 

“Uhh… oh…” Brutus mumbled before quickly retreating. 

Midas wasn’t even sure what to do. What do you do when you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to be disturbed for an entire day and then one of your top men comes into your room while you have your hand on your dick? Perhaps just play it cool, like nothing happened. With the mood thoroughly killed, Midas dunked his head under the water for a quick rinse, not that it mattered since his hair had turned to gold. He stepped out to wrap a towel around his waist. His dick wasn’t letting the blood escape as quickly as he would’ve liked though, so he tried flexing some of his muscles while focusing on literally anything else. After some time, the gold eased out of his skin and his dick finally went limp enough for him to feel comfortable slipping back into some clothes. A tight, black turtleneck and khakis would suffice as he worked. 

Although, he supposed he should let Brutus explain why he was barging into his boss’s room unannounced. So, he walked over and opened the door just enough to peek his head out. Brutus was standing to the right with his back pressed firmly into the wall, like he was trying to disappear. Midas thought he spotted a light blush over the other man’s face under the sunglasses before Brutus jumped away, hitting his head against the wall. 

“Ahem, Agent Brutus,” Midas said, trying desperately to conceal the awkwardness he felt. 

“Sir…” Brutus started, but never continued. 

“What is the reason for your visit?” said Midas with a little more bite than he meant. “I thought I put you at the Grotto, Agent.”

“Well, sir,” the big man coughed, which seemed to help him regain his composure. “Skye informed me there was an attempt on your life today, that you were heading to the yacht to relax, and she commanded I go along to make sure you are safe.”

“And so why is it that you made the decision to enter my room unannounced when that has never, _ever_ been protocol? I’m very curious." Midas told himself he wasn’t going to address it, but fuck it. Clearly, some rules were being broken today. 

“I… heard a loud thump and a groan. Considering the events of today, I thought you might have been in danger,” Brutus explained. For a moment, Midas couldn’t really blame him. The man was just doing his job. 

“Well… That is understandable,” Midas responded, but it came out more like a question. “But as you can see I am… perfectly _fine._ ” He enunciated each syllable while trying his best not to look in the other man’s eyes. Still, he could see the slight smile and quirk of Brutus’s brows when he said the word “fine.” 

“Is there anything else you need? Before you leave me alone for the next twenty four hours or until I need something?” Midas asked.

Brutus started to shake his head before stopping. 

“Actually, sir,” Brutus coughed again. He looked straight ahead and, stone-faced, said, “Your fly is down.”

Midas’s eyes shot down to his fly, which was indeed down, and let the door slam behind him as he tried adjusting it. After his pants were properly situated, he took extra care to make triple sure his door was locked. He sighed loudly and went up to his bed to gather the files from his sling. Glancing through them, he walked over to his desk to begin working. He knew Skye would be disappointed if she found out he was working when he was meant to be relaxing, but he was the head of Ghost and ran the Agency practically twenty-four seven. Working was all he knew how to do. 

Golden hands paused over the stacks of folders. The moment of Brutus walking in on him kept barging into his brain. Midas let himself slump into his chair. He ran his hands over his inked arms like a reminder of the warmth they spread over his skin not even fifteen minutes before. He bit his lip. Maybe this trip really shouldn’t be for working. 

Midas let his mind wander to the possibilities of what could have happened when Brutus walked in. He could’ve seen Midas, fully erect, and walked in, casually stripping clothes as he went, and joined him in the tub. The Agent could’ve started making out with Midas, soft lips and big, calloused hands all over him. Perhaps he would reach down and move Midas’s hands aside so he could take over dragging a hand up and down Midas’s pale cock. Or maybe they would rut against each other until it became too much and Midas would have to have Brutus inside him. 

He supposed anything could have happened. 

Even though he had never thought about Brutus in such a way before, it was really turning him on. Undoing the buttons to his pants, Midas could feel himself reach maximum hardness. He shimmied out of his pants and underwear just enough to reveal his throbbing dick which fell against his stomach with a fleshy slap. It felt incredible when he began stroking knowing this time wouldn’t be interrupted. One failed orgasm was enough. Shivers ran down his spine and he let himself moan a little louder than normal. A bigger part of him than Midas would care to admit hoped Brutus could hear him as the horny part of his brain drowned out any sense. His toes curled and uncurled as the tightness in his gut returned. 

“Oh, fuck,” he growled as his hand hardened its grip and pumped faster. 

It didn’t take long before streams of cum landed hot on his stomach, some getting up to his sternum and all over the shirt he tried pulling up. He was about to let his head fall back before remembering why Brutus entered last time. Midas reached over his desk to grab some tissues to clean his hands and stomach. One of the many benefits to permanently gold hands is that they are much easier to get cum off of. Then he wiped his stomach down, trying and failing, not to get the now chilled semen from sticking to the little bit of black hair that led to his dick. His shirt was tossed aside and he pushed his other discarded clothes off his bed before falling onto it. Midas fell asleep above the covers, khakis still on and unbuttoned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. I honestly don't know where this is going. Well, that's sort of a lie. It'll go somewhere. But is it going to be good? Your guess is as good as mine, so let's find out together! As always, let me know if you want me to continue this. If you wanna write a comment to say yes, that's cool. If you wanna write a comment to tell me you hate it... That's cool too. Gotta love that constructive criticism. Wanna leave some kudos? That's *chef's kiss*  
> Let's be simps for Midas together.

A horrible taste had settled on the surface of Midas’s tongue and he wiped at his mouth where he could feel an uncomfortable bit of drool cooling. He groaned and flipped himself over. Sunbeams warmed the room forcing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to obstruct the intrusive light. Although, the desire to stay in bed and waste away didn’t last long. He remembered his pool on the main deck that wasn’t as much for him as it was for guests, but today it would be for him. Midas stood, completed his morning routine and went outside, swimsuit on and towel in hand. 

He barely got out the door from his room before he noticed Brutus standing not too far from his position the previous night. He cleared his throat. 

“Morning, Agent. Have you been standing there all night?” Midas asked.

Brutus turned to look at him through his dark glasses.

“Not all night sir, but for as long as I could. I took a short rest while someone covered my position. I returned at 06:00,” responded Brutus. 

“Well, you certainly don’t have to do that,” Midas told him as he brushed past to continue heading towards the main deck. 

Brutus didn’t respond but Midas could hear his heavy footfalls trail after him. Skye must have given him strict instructions to follow him and keep him in his sights whenever possible. Midas sighed to himself. He understood her motives, but she was known for being a tad overzealous when it came to proving herself. Skye was the youngest of all the agents at a bright-eyed twenty four. Then again, Midas himself wasn’t _that_ much older, but he knew people found it difficult to place his age. He liked it that way. No one at the Agency even knew how old he really was. He intended on keeping it that way. 

Midas threw his towel down on a lounger that was being warmed by the sun and walked to the edge of the pool. He yawned and stretched his arms out before sitting down to dip his feet in. The water was so perfect that he could only feel the chill of it when he kicked his feet lightly back and forth. The wooden panelling of the deck had a pleasant heat to it that soaked into his back when he laid down. He tilted his head back to see Brutus staring straight ahead off the deck of the ship. Midas could see a sheen of sweat covering the man’s head, giving it a polished look. 

“Hot enough?” Midas asked. 

“Sorry?” Brutus asked back like he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Are you hot?” Midas reworded himself.

“Uh, no, sir. Perfectly fine,” Brutus told him.

“Why don’t you go stand over there? In the shade,” he suggested. 

“I won’t have a good enough vantage point over there, sir.”

“Vantage point for what?” Midas asked. “To spot another assassin coming? Brutus, we are currently in the middle of the ocean. Normally, I wouldn’t challenge you, but if you’re supposed to be protecting me then you can’t be having a heat stroke.”

Brutus pulled his glasses off his face to wipe at the sweat accumulating on the bridge of his nose. He cleaned the lenses with the hem of his jacket as he walked into the shade. 

“And you should probably take your jacket off,” said Midas as he slid his way into the pool. 

The water rippled around him and the coolness of it made a pleasant tingle skitter over his body. It only came up to his belly button so Midas took a couple steps in toward the deeper section until he couldn’t touch the bottom. He let his head fall under; the water rushed over his face and when he came back up his normally perfect hair flattened itself to his forehead. Golden hands came up to push it back into what he could tell was a mess of glossy black. He smiled to himself.

“Want to come in, agent?” Midas asked as he pushed up to float on his back. His little 5 inch inseam swim trunks billowed out around his thighs. He didn’t waste any effort trying to keep them from inching up. 

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, sir,” Brutus told him, wiping the moisture from his upper lip. 

Midas knew he already passed the “inappropriate” line last night when he came all over himself to the idea of getting fucked by the other man. Not that Brutus needed to know that. Midas swam back to the edge of the pool closest to his agent and used the reflection of the sun off his gold hands to beam a little light speck into Brutus’s face. For a second Midas thought he saw a smile on the other man’s face. 

“Tell me, Brutus… what’s so inappropriate about taking a dip to cool off?”

The agent gulped before responding with, “You know I’m supposed to stand guard, sir.”

“I think I should know better than anyone what you’re supposed to be doing. You do remember I’m your boss, correct?” Midas said with no real bite, giving up on trying to reflect light with his hands and instead resting his chin on them. 

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” said Brutus. 

Ever since the previous night Midas couldn’t get the idea of hooking up with his agent out of his head. Maybe it was because he was more relaxed than normal, perhaps it was the atmosphere of the yacht, but his hard fast rule of “don’t mix work with pleasure” was slowly becoming less of a priority. He thought about the emptiness of his bed and how, when he was particularly busy, the other side of it would be covered in his clothes. Even though he was positive he didn’t want a relationship of any kind, it did make him long for the heat of another body.

“Well then, what if I make it an order?” Midas teased. 

“I don’t have any swim trunks,” Brutus said, wringing his hands together. Midas noted the lack of the usual honorific. 

“Alright. How about just dip your feet in? Makes a huge difference,” the boss said, gesturing to the space at the edge of the pool. 

Brutus was quiet for a while before nodding. The big man walked over, took his shoes and socks off, rolled up his slacks, and sat down. Midas found it charming the way he kicked his feet back and forth and watched the little disturbances at the waters’ surface. They sat like that for a while, Midas lazily drifting throughout the pool and Brutus focused on the little waves he was making with his feet. It was the first time Midas felt really at ease. He knew the other man saw him jerking off not even twelve hours earlier but still. He somehow found himself not really feeling too much shame, just peace in the moment.

“Listen, sir,” Brutus started, his voice was gruff and tinged with regret. “I just wanted to apologize for yest--”

Midas put up a hand to silence him. 

“No need. You were just doing your job, agent,” he told Brutus, who looked unconvinced. 

“I feel bad that I may have embarrassed you, sir. I like having this job,” Brutus explained anyway. 

Midas chuckled to himself, a bit disbelieving. 

“It sounds like you think I’m going to fire you, Agent Brutus,” the gold man said. 

Brutus just looked at him straight faced. 

“Do my agents truly believe so low of me that you think I would fire you for catching me masturbating?” Midas asked, hoisting himself over to the ledge of the pool to get out. 

“We don’t think low of you, sir,” Brutus tried, blushing. “You’re just…” 

“Just what?” urged Midas. Brutus stayed still and remained quiet while Midas laid down on the lounger after tucking it into the shade. He put his arms behind his head before telling him to, “Go on.”

“You’re just not exactly personable… Sir,” Brutus said, voice still low. 

“Ah hah, not exactly an insult. I find that to be a compliment actually. My agents can’t expect me to be friendly. Especially not in this kind of work, hmm? As long as we all trust one another in some capacity then that’s what matters. Am I wrong?”

“No, sir. Of course. But we don’t even know how old you are. Who you were before this. All we ever hear you talk about is work,” Brutus continued, even though it was obvious he thought he was overstepping. 

“Do you want to know these things?” Midas asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Brutus honestly. 

“Well, then I’m not sure there is a need for it,” said Midas. “Is it customary to talk about such nonsense at other jobs?”

“In a way, yes. Like small talk,” Brutus said. 

Midas just made an “ah” sound before saying, “I’ve never much cared for small talk.”

Brutus opened his mouth like he was going to speak again but never did. Midas figured he would accuse him of making small talk with his investors but they both knew that was different. He just sat there, feet still in the pool, hands at his sides. Midas watched him, knowing that even though the agent wouldn’t say it, he was curious about what kind of a person Midas was. _Don’t mix pleasure and work,_ he kept repeating to himself. It was a reminder he didn’t want to hear, even when he was the one saying it. It was like he wanted to comfort the agent, make him feel better by sharing stupid little details about himself. He tried so hard to keep his professional life separate, but he wasn’t sure he had a personal life anymore. Midas knew he could have a relationship with Brutus, whether it was a sexual one or not, if he tried. 

Brutus was an intimidating man. He was over six foot two, _easily,_ all muscle and barely ever smiled, but watching him by the pool he seemed to soften. Midas could already feel the attraction creeping up on him. Maybe he should let himself have this...

“But if you’re really curious,” Midas began, tilting his head down to look at the other man, “I have a bit of a sweet tooth, even though I care deeply for Meowscles, I’m really more of a dog person, and I like drawing. Do things like that satisfy your curiosity?” 

Even though he was wearing sunglasses, it was obvious by the slight drop of his jaw that Brutus’s eyes were wide. The man rubbed at his bald head and chuckled. 

“Yeah, sure it does. Maybe don’t tell Skye about the sweet tooth thing, though,” Brutus told him. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, we would all do this thing where we guess traits about you. Like I guessed that your favorite color was blue,” Brutus explained. “But Skye guessed you had a sweet tooth. None of us believed her.”

Midas couldn’t help but feel a little insecure at the idea of everyone talking about him, but with the reputation he’s built up it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. Still, he feels a telling blush rise to his cheeks. He wonders why Brutus guessed blue, but he doesn’t ask. 

“All this guessing about me, and what about you? I don’t know much about you considering how long you’ve worked for me,” Midas said. 

“You never asked,” said Brutus. 

“Likewise,” rebutts Midas. 

“Fair,” is where Brutus leaves it. 

Again, they sit in silence, Midas enjoying the delicate breeze, and Brutus with his toes in the water. For a moment, Midas does wonder to himself why he never got to know any of his agents as close friends, but those thoughts are quickly shut out when he remembers what happens when you get close to people in this business. Phantom sounds of bullets fire past his skull and the memories of the wracking in his chest as slugs fire from his shotgun leave him breathless. Groans of injured men, his men, who probably won’t live to see tomorrow rattle his head. Blood soaks his shirt, which has turned gold, everything is _gold._ The searing pain running down his face, it burns, it all _burns--_

“Sir?” Brutus interrupts. 

His voice feels like a cold splash of water that cuts into the memory. Even though he wants to, he can’t get close to them, to Brutus. His agents have always been good to him, but as just that, _agents._ They do their work and help things run smoothly. He is their employer, their boss, the man with the golden touch. He has no friends for a reason. Midas splays out to let his arms and legs hang off the sides of the lounge chair. He looks out to the horizon, to where the pale blue sky meets the calm but powerful ocean. _It’s all for a reason,_ he reminds himself. 

“Hmm,” is all he answers with, trying to quell the heavy rise and fall of his chest. 

“I meant to tell you yesterday, you have an event tonight, here on the yacht. Do you want me to cancel it?” Brutus asks. 

“Remind me what it’s for?” Midas asks him. 

“One of the parties for your close investors, sir.”

The idea of a party doesn’t seem too bad for once, a welcome distraction. The thought of alcohol makes it a little more enticing, he admits to himself. Usually, he just lets his financiers and their gaggles of party goers have full run of the yacht (save for his room) to enjoy themselves. He stops in for a bit, says hello, thanks them for their contribution to the cause, and let’s them go at it. Alcohol, dancing, famous musicians and DJs, money guns, and occasionally strippers are par for the course, but it’s generally not his preferred scene. However, tonight he might actually find someone to warm his bed, just for the night. Part of him thinks of seducing Brutus into the task, but he shoves that impulse down fast. 

“No need to cancel,” Midas told him. “It actually might be fun. I haven’t allowed myself a drink in a while. But do me a favor, when we dock I want background checks on everyone who comes on board. Every single entry point is to have two men minimum and this time I will ask that you do remain at my side.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll make sure everyone is vetted and every agent is aware of the protocol,” Brutus assured him. 

“What time is it now and when does the event begin?” Midas asked, remembering he left his phone in his room. 

“It is currently 11:00 and the event begins at 22:00,” said Brutus. 

That left plenty of time for Midas to continue decompressing by the pool for a few more hours and a surplus to hydrate before a night of drinking. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. Midas was actually looking forward to it. Before he could think of the possibilities the night offered, his stomach piped up to request a late breakfast. 

“Brutus?” 

“Yessir?”

“Would you mind radioing for some food? Feel free to request something for yourself. Just tell them I’d really like an iced tea, please,” said Midas. 

“Of course, sir,” Brutus responded before doing just that. 

When the food and drinks arrived they ate in comfortable silence. Midas enjoyed the fact that when he was around Brutus he didn’t have to fill the quiet with awkward chit chat. Brutus was the kind of man who, when he spoke first, it meant something. Which made it all the more interesting that the other man got into conversations about Midas… Maybe he was only that reserved with his superiors, which made sense. He wanted to ask about what else his employees thought about him, without sounding too interested of course. 

“So, Brutus, what other things have my agents guessed about me?” He asked, not sure if he succeeded.  
Brutus looked a little caught off guard by the question. He put his fork down to take his glasses off and leaned back in his chair. 

“If I may be frank sir, I’m not sure you’ll want to hear some of it,” Brutus said with an awkward chuckle. 

“Oh really? Surely it can’t be all bad,” Midas said, trying to encourage him to spill on his coworkers. He pushed his chair forward to get a little closer to the agent and focused his mismatched eyes on Brutus’s wandering gaze. 

“It’s not _bad_ per se, just… not appropriate,” Brutus deflected. 

“You’ve been drawing that line a lot today,” Midas said, pretending to be interested in the gold sheen of his hands. 

“Hah, yeah. Sorry. It’s just that it has to do with your…” Brutus tried gesturing, but Midas wasn’t sure what he was getting at. He could tell his face gave away his confusion when Brutus stuttered over an excuse. “I can tell you about the other, more inconsequential, things they guess at instead.”

“No, no. I want to hear,” Midas said, a predatory smile reaching across his face. He was ninety-five percent sure it wouldn’t end in consequences for anyone… depending on what it was. 

“For one thing, they’ve guessed at your…” Brutus swallowed hard. “Size.”

Midas lets out a bark of laughter. The dumb things people guess at when they’re bored. It made him wonder if he should give them more work to do so they won’t have to talk about such stupid things. 

“Fascinating,” Midas said. “And tell me, Brutus,” he leaned forward, “what was your guess?” 

A heavy sheen of sweat beaded over Brutus’s brow, but whether that was from the heat of being outside or embarrassment was debatable. He squirmed in his seat like he was desperate to leave; he probably was. It thrilled Midas to watch him. He bit at his lower lip in anticipation. 

“Would you buy it if I said I didn’t participate in this one?” Brutus asked. 

“Not for a second,” Midas said with a smirk. 

“Six and a half,” Brutus relented. 

It wasn’t that far off, but he could have just been saying that since he got a decent look at it the previous night. The thought of Brutus being able to see his cock once and almost pinpoint its size made him adjust himself in his pants. And he was proud of his dick. Midas had been told by many partners how nice it was. The thickness of it, the weight of it in their hands, their mouths, and the beautiful paleness to it got him many compliments. Not to mention the fact that he knew his way around the bedroom. He was not just an expert in taking it, but he liked to think of himself as being very generous. So, for as shocked as he was last night, it excited him that Brutus walked in on him. It made him want to give Brutus a close up. 

“Are you just saying that because you saw it last night?” Midas asked. 

“No, sir. I… barely saw anything.” _Sure he didn’t._ “Why? Am I close?”

“Almost spot on,” he told Brutus. 

“Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Midas laughed and took a sip of his tea to rewet his lips. 

“Lucky indeed,” he said with a quirk of his brows. 

The rest of their lunch stayed silent until Midas got up to leave. He put all the silverware and plates together, including Brutus’s, for easy collecting. All the while Midas couldn’t help but feel a little giddy knowing that Brutus contributed to those guessing games about him. That meant Brutus was curious about him, that he _thought_ about him. Sure, all the other agents did as well, and perhaps he was just reading into things, but maybe the other man felt a little attraction towards him too. The idea pleased him but also disappointed him. For one, he didn’t _really_ know how his bodyguard felt about him, not really. He hadn’t done much else to indicate any sort of attraction. Even more disappointingly, even if he had, Midas really shouldn’t act on it. He wasn’t sure risking however many years of hard work and keeping a professional only relationship with his employees was worth throwing away for one person. 

——————————————————————

Sipping on his first Negroni of the night, Midas adjusted his suit in his full body mirror. He was a confident man, not egotistical, and gave himself an approving smirk. Outside his room the loud thumping of party music began and shook the floor beneath his leather shoes. The excitement in anticipation of the event didn’t wane through the day making him feel a little high as the time to party got closer. Midas knew that there was at least one person coming onto the yacht who would sleep with him making his eagerness grow even more. It had been a while since the last time he even tried and he felt like he deserved giving himself the opportunity to get some action. He took a couple more big sips of his Negroni and the warmth slid down his throat, making a home in his belly. It was going to be an exceptional night, he was sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your buns ready for some angst in the next chapter. Oh, almost forgot, can someone give me a prompt or something? I need a task because these idle hands do the devil's work. Cheers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah shit, here we go again. Here's chapter three, rushed to you by none other than yours truly. I hope you enjoy. This one gets a lil sexual, a lil angsty, so fair warning to you dirty simps. Let me know if you liked this one because I thrive solely on the validation of others, just like Tinkerbell. 
> 
> Also, since this was rushed, this may be absolutely positutely rife with grammatical errors and sentences that sound awkward/repetitive. BUT, even though I'm a perfectionist I'm also a lazy ass. *insert ear rape Laugh It Up emote*

After tipping back the rest of his cocktail, Midas left his room to finally join the party. Outside his room Brutus waited for him and silently followed close behind Midas who headed out onto the main deck. The boss felt what he assumed was the heat of the other man’s gaze up and down his back but he didn’t turn around to check. 

“Okay,” Midas muttered to himself, “First thing’s first, say hi to the investors.” 

He was never particularly fond of this part but he didn’t _hate_ it either. It was just the same thing every time. A dog and pony show of overstretched smiles, surface level compliments, and sometimes back handed questioning. Still, he knew it was part of his responsibility as the leader of not only the Agency but of the entirety of Ghost. Not everyone could put the organization’s mission statement into such a palettable context like Midas could. If everything else about him was golden, his tongue was the only silver part. Plus, he was in a good mood so it shouldn’t be too bad. 

The V.I.P. guests lazed around the couches by the pool, many of them already impressive levels of intoxicated. Just watching them trip over themselves, dance suggestively, and belt out the lyrics to the songs being played made him feel like he needed to catch up. The floor lights lit up the yacht with their strobing multitude of colors. It made him squint. He whispered to Brutus to radio for another Negroni, a big one. Even in a good mood these meetings could always use some social lubrication. 

“Ah, there he is!” yelled one of the partygoers, forcing Midas to turn around. It was one of the Wild Card leaders, Spade. So it wasn’t just one investor he would be greeting tonight. But, truth be told, they were incredibly vital to the Ghost mission. They helped supply Midas with more manpower than anyone else involved in the cause. Their gang had an extremely impressive reach and it wasn’t always about money. If it was, Midas would be able to save their world on his own being that money was clearly never an obstacle with his abilities. Plus, they weren’t always bad to talk to. In fact, many of the Wild Cards were very enjoyable to be around. 

“Ah, Spade, how are you?” Midas asked, moving his hand in for a shake. 

“You trying to turn me into gold, pal? Ah,” Spade laughed and put his gloved hand in Midas’s, “I’m just jokin’ buddy. Good to see you, though.”

“Good to see you as well,” said Midas. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked back to see Brutus holding his next drink. For a second, his heart rate picked up ever so slightly but it didn’t last once he saw it was his bodyguard. He took the cocktail from the other man’s hands, their fingers brushing lightly together, and he muttered a “Thank you.” Midas tipped the glass far back to take a couple big mouthfuls of the amber liquid, trying not to have the orange peel garnish fall onto his face, before he turned back to Spade. 

“Woah, is that… Is that Midas… drinking I spy with my little eye? This is already a _fascinating_ night. How many drinks you have?” asked Spade. 

“This is only my second,” Midas admitted even though he knew the Wild Cards would try goading him into shots. He wasn’t a fan of shots, but in the moment he wasn’t entirely against the idea. It seemed to be an important part of bonding at these parties and if he got inebriated a little quicker then he couldn’t complain. 

“Come with me. You’re doing a shot with us, gives you a chance to say hi to the rest of the gang too before you inevitably disappear,” teased Spade. Although, it did make him feel a little guilty because he knew Spade wasn’t entirely joking. When these parties happened he usually didn’t stick around. He certainly never drank with any of the guests. 

Spade hooked his arm around Midas and dragged him to the other set of couches. They formed a circle with a round table in the middle that was littered with drinks and ash trays. 

“Guys, look who decided to grace us with his presence!” said Spade, pushing Midas onto an empty spot on one of the couches. “It’s Goldie!” 

Midas felt Brutus step a little bit closer to him. The man’s hand brushed against his shoulder almost like he was going to rest it there. He convinced himself it was the alcohol that forced a flush to his cheeks as he chugged the rest of his Negroni. 

“It is _his_ boat, after all. Jackass,” heckled Diamond. 

The rest of the Wild Cards exchanged pleasantries with him and the conversations were tame enough. Halfway through talking he could feel his previous two drinks chipping away at his tight posture. 

“So, you gonna do a shot with us, Goldie?” asked Club. 

“Oh, yeah! Do a shot with us!” shouted Diamond. Heart--never really one for talking-- nodded from his spot on the couch. 

“Yes, actually I will. What’ll it be?” Midas inquired and gave a look to Brutus. The big man looked back at him blankly, but he knew exactly what Midas was asking. He pulled his radio out in preparation for the order. 

“Can you get a bottle of Don Julio up here?” Spade asked, knowing perfectly well that Midas could get them just about anything they asked for. 

Brutus radioed for the drink and it took all of a single minute for it to arrive. One of the Ghost men breathlessly handed the bottle to Midas who poured the tequila into a line of shot glasses set out on the table. 

“You’re so good to us, Goldie! Thanks again for hosting us,” said Spade. 

Each of the men took a glass, knocked it on the table, into each other’s glasses, raised them with a “Cheers!” and tipped them back. Tequila burned more than Midas remembered but he felt satisfied at having drank his shot without pulling too ridiculous of a face. At least, he thought, until he saw Brutus’s slight smile out of the corner of his eye. Midas leaned into him, his lips as close to the other man’s ear as he could get them. 

“What are you smiling at?” he wondered to Brutus, whose smile stayed in place. 

“Just never seen you unwind like this, sir. And it looked like that shot really burned on the way down,” Brutus said with a quiet chuckle that Midas almost didn’t hear over the swell of talking and music. It was such a soft, delightful sound that Midas poured himself another shot and gulped it down, maintaining eye contact with Brutus the whole time. Midas could swear he saw a blush on the other man’s cheeks but it could’ve been the strobing colored lights. Or the fact that the three drinks he had were really gaining on him. Everything seemed to slow down and his brain felt cloudy but in a weirdly pleasant way. He held his golden hands up to his face to inspect his reflection and determined that he still looked pretty put together. There was plenty of time still before he reached the “hot mess” stage of being drunk. 

“Damn, Goldie! You’re really rarin’ to go tonight! What’s the occasion?” laughed Diamond. 

“Yeah, you _never_ drink like that! What was that? Your fourth?” asked Club. 

“Mm, yeah. It was my fourth. And to answer your question, _Diamond,”_ Midas drawled, “The occasion is,” _That I want to get fucked silly tonight and being drunk makes it a lot easier to let go,_ “I’m on a mission.” 

The Wild Cards all laughed. 

“Yeah? What mission is that?” asked Spade. 

Midas stood up. He stumbled a little and Brutus’s hands came up to his shoulders to stabilize him. Stepping out from underneath his bodyguard’s large palms, Midas shook his head in an attempt to get his hair out of his eyes. He put his golden hands on his hips and looked at everyone from under his dark lashes. 

“I’m on a mission, direct orders from Skye mind you, to _relax,”_ he told everyone like it was a coveted secret that wasn’t to leave their circle. 

The cards laughed again and Heart gave him a rough pat on his back. His left foot stomped forward to catch him from falling. 

“Gotta be honest, it’s working out _really_ well for me so far…” Midas said, slurring a little over the word “really.” He poured himself another drink but when he went to take it the glass turned to gold. Midas grumbled and put the little gold cup to his lips, drinking the tequila anyway. He turned around and found a random dancer in the crowd. 

“Hey you!” he yelled, pointing at them. 

They met his eyes and brought their index finger to their chest in a “You talking to me?” gesture and Midas nodded. 

The dancer took a few steps forward before Midas threw the gold shot glass into their hands. 

“Here’s a little gift, from me to you!” he shouted, trying to be heard over the bumping music. He turned back around to face the group, a light sway in his hips. Not from drunkenness but in a shy attempt at dancing. 

“Damn, Goldie, that’s five drinks now. Definitely gotta be the most I’ve ever seen you drink. It may just be a sign that the end is near,” joked Diamond. 

Midas felt his eyebrows jerk up and a smile tug at his lips. He hummed as the alcohol took over, melting his mind into a pliable, more easy going version of himself. It crossed his mind for a split second that maybe he should discuss at least a little business with the Wild Cards but he knew soon he wouldn’t be capable. Even in his state, Midas knew making drunk business proposals was off the table. So he talked to them about more inconsequential things like their art collections, food, and fishing. Throughout their conversations, Midas could feel the heat of Brutus’s body next to his. It made him feel safe and comforted even though he knew he voluntarily made himself more vulnerable. 

“Hey, does anyone wanna go dancin’?” asked Spade, turning from his one sided conversation with Heart. 

The alcohol had torn down Midas’s defenses plenty for him to agree. Even though he wasn’t a professional or anything, he knew that he was a good enough dancer that he wouldn’t really embarrass himself no matter how drunk he got. He nodded and he, the Wild Cards, and Brutus all walked from the main outer deck to the inside first floor. “The Pit” as he called it. The colored lights of the dance floor flickered in time with the music making Midas question how well he’d be able to remain upright. When he walked down the stairs Brutus held his boss’s forearm to help make sure he didn’t face plant. Midas looked over to his bodyguard. He was so _big,_ so tall and muscular, and his chiseled, stoic face was making Midas’s mouth water a little. After taking the last step Brutus let go and Midas suddenly grabbed the other man’s arms. Brutus looked confused and the golden man stumbled into his chest. It wasn’t an accident that he ever so slightly rubbed his crotch against Brutus’s leg. 

“Be careful, sir. I don’t want you to fall. Are you sure you’re okay to dance?” the bodyguard said leaning in. Midas smiled. _I don’t want you to fall._

“I just wanted to say thank you, agent,” Midas yelled. 

“For what?” asked Brutus. 

“For… Well, for one, you made sure I didn’t fall… just now.” Even though the agent had made sure of that multiple times already. “And-- and you’re just such a good employee. Like, really good. Helps that you’re handsome, too,” Midas said so breathless that he wasn’t sure Brutus even heard him. _Oh, and thank you for discussing the size of my cock too._

“I’m gonna go dance now,” Midas told him before plunging into the crowd. 

Brutus smiled and nodded, following him into the sea of bodies. He stood near but never once unfolded his arms, unless he had to catch Midas, or moved his feet. The warmth in Midas’s belly was a strangely comforting feeling as he danced around. It made him loose and his feet carried him randomly in whatever direction his weight leaned. The Wild cards would trade him around, doing goofy joke dances with him before Midas accidentally got separated. He wasn’t sure how he got to the other side of the dance floor but didn’t really mind seeing as he found a new dance partner. The man was a little bit taller than him and was so muscular that Midas found himself wanting to be wrapped up in the stranger’s arms. 

The stranger wore a pastel hawaiin style shirt with foxes running over his chest and his blonde hair was coiffed into a tall fohawk. He wore a mask over his face but he tugged it down when Midas turned to face him. The man was extremely good looking in a sexy surfer kind of way. 

“Hey there,” the stranger said hotly in his ear. 

“Hey,” panted Midas. 

Midas could feel the man’s hands grab onto his hips and he pulled them together. Their groins met, forcing Midas’s eyes to meet the stranger’s. He must’ve looked panicked because Brutus stepped in, putting a hand on the guest’s shoulder in a warning. The agent leaned down to Midas. 

“This guy bothering you, sir?” Brutus asked. 

Midas wasn’t sure how to respond for a while. He looked to the man in the Hawaiin shirt whose hands were now at his sides with his shoulders shrugged. There was a gentle smile on his face as if he was trying to promise that he wouldn’t do any harm. Midas looked back at Brutus. His mind swirled as he analyzed the agent’s face. There was a tinge of worry there as if he was asking Midas not to go with the other man. It made him want to put Brutus’s jaw in his hands and bring him in for a crushing kiss but he paused. How many times did he have to lecture himself about not mixing his personal and professional lives? He couldn’t risk losing the agent because they fucked and things grew too awkward to be bearable and the agent inevitably quit. If Brutus was anything he was reliable and Midas couldn’t risk losing that. 

“No, he seems damn fine,” Midas said suggestively, giving the stranger a long once over. 

The other man bit his lip and said, “My name is Drift, _pleasure_ to meet ya.” 

Midas knew he would find someone. 

“My name is Midas.”

The gold handed man turned around and brought his behind to Drift’s crotch. He raised his arms up and let Drift put his hands back on his waist, tugging them closer. They moved slowly together in a drunk, languid dance. The hands on Midas’s waist slid up and down in a comforting rub that got his dick’s attention. Their hips swayed in tandem and Midas let out a breathy sigh, his head tilting back to rest on Drift’s left clavicle. The two men became the ocean in each other's arms. 

After what was probably ten minutes of dancing like that, grinding on one another, Midas turned around to pull Drift in for a heated kiss. It was fast and hungry and Drift made an approving sound as he continued moving his hips against Midas’s. Midas could feel his own dick growing against his zipper, not caring if the bulge in his pants was becoming obvious to the other partygoers. Drift nibbled at Midas’s bottom lip, his smile obvious in the kiss. The other man was growing hard too if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. Drift ran his tongue along Midas’s, encouraging a moan to escape him. Hands made their way down to Midas’s ass and he left Drift’s lips to place kisses along his neck up to his ear. Their mouths met again and didn’t part as the pair slowly made their way to a wall. Midas’s back pressed against it and Drift moved in close.

Drift pushed his knee between Midas’s thighs to put some pressure against his cock, and rutted his hips against Midas’s leg for some pressure of his own. It was practically pornographic the way they humped at each other’s legs for everyone to see, but Midas was too influenced by the five drinks he had to care. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Drift whispered into his ear.

“Mm, I’d like that,” said Midas. 

He took Drift’s hand in his and led them through the crowd. Just before he was about to take the stairs up to the floor to his room, Midas noticed someone following them. When he turned around he felt stupid for not realizing sooner that it was Brutus. Midas tried tucking his erection in his waistband before addressing him. The added pressure of his tight belt against the head of his cock made his eyes roll back in pleasure. The anticipation was killing him. 

“Ah, Brutus, you know, maybe you should wait outside. Stay at the party, enjoy yourself,” Midas said as though it were a suggestion. It wasn’t. 

“With all due respect, sir, you asked me to stay by your side the whole night. I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone in your room with someone you just met. Especially in your condition, sir,” said Brutus. 

Drift looked awkwardly between Midas and his bodyguard. 

“I know what I said,” Midas laughed with a slight stumble. “But I’m telling you now to forget what I said. I’m going to be… a little... preoccupied.” He let go of Drift’s hand to walk over to his agent as if begging him to challenge him again. 

“Sir, I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Don’t forget why you’re on the yacht in the first place,” Brutus said. 

“Yeah, I’m here to--” he hiccupped, “to _relax._ And what better way to relax than to get fucked nice and hard?” Midas grabbed at his dick in an attempt to adjust it which just made it tent his pants up. It would have been startlingly obvious to anyone who walked by just how painfully hard he was.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to agree to such activities right now, sir,” Brutus admonished and gave Drift a harsh look. “I don’t think you are either! Plus, you’re here to relax because someone tried to kill you.” 

Drift blinked, but it was a slow, dumb looking movement because of his own drunkenness. 

“We are just fine, Brutus. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come in with us then, and you can _watch,”_ Midas laughed out. “It might make you feel better because if I’m being honest, you’re the one who looks tense right now.”

Brutus groaned in discomfort and shook his head. 

“Please, sir. I think you’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret this. Let me take you to bed.”

Midas chuckled before hiccuping. 

“ _You_ wanna take _me_ to bed? Agent, why didn’t you just say so?” Midas said, tilting his head back to expose his neck like he was expecting Brutus to kiss it. Brutus let out a self deprecating chuckle like he couldn’t believe he was in this mess. 

“Sir, that’s not what I meant. I can take you in your room and help you get ready for bed. You’ll feel much better tomorrow. We can leave your number with…” Brutus looked over to Drift who was clearly not paying attention anymore, “that guy, and if you still want to… get together tomorrow you can.” 

“No, I wanted to get laid _tonight._ Like right now,” whined Midas. 

Even if he had no idea now, he would definitely be embarrassed by his behavior in the morning. Not for being horny, but because Midas was never whiny. He was calculated, wildly intelligent, and classy--when he wasn’t drunk. At least none of the important--V.I.P--guests saw him like this. It wasn’t a long night of partying like he had originally expected but perhaps he just wasn’t cut out for the wild life. Maybe he should go to bed, he thought, before that changes. He hiccupped and the fight seemed to leave him. Although his erection still stood proud against his slacks. 

“Come on, sir. Let’s go,” Brutus said with his hand on Midas’s lower back to gently guide him. 

They walked in silence up to the room with Midas awkwardly holding onto Brutus’s forearms. When they arrived at the door the two men paused unsure what to do. 

“Am I… allowed to go in?” Midas asked. It would’ve come out snarky if he wasn’t so drunk. 

Brutus ignored him and instead asked, “Do you want me to go in with you? Make sure that you get to bed okay?”

Midas just nodded. 

Brutus radioed for some water bottles and ibuprofen as he walked Midas to the bathroom to brush his teeth and let him relieve himself. The first toothbrush was accidentally turned to gold so Brutus reached under the sink to grab another. Midas held himself back from grabbing the back of his agent’s head to have him mock oral sex. It made him giggle. He brushed his teeth without interruption the second time and used the toilet. Brutus left for a quick minute when there was a knock at the door, a henchmen with the water and medicine. Before he came back, Midas turned on the shower and stripped. He gave himself a few lazy tugs on his cock as he waited for the water to warm. 

The bathroom didn’t have a door that closed but one that unfolded like a screen. It was translucent so it blurred his naked figure but didn’t actually obscure anything, especially not with the large gaps on the top and bottom. The shower itself was encased in glass so if Brutus wanted to watch him shower, he could. 

When Brutus returned he went to check on Midas but quickly averted his eyes with a “Woah!” 

Midas smirked and hopped in the shower, stroking himself the whole time. Even though he couldn’t fuck Drift his dick wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

“Are you going to stay while I shower, Brutus? You can make sure I don’t fall since I’m all wet,” Midas called out to him. 

“If you would like me to stay, sir, I can, but I will be staying out here with my back turned for your privacy.”

Midas didn’t really want privacy right now. He wanted Brutus to turn around, see what a work of art he is, and walk in the shower fully clothed to fuck him sensless. He wanted the man to see him pull a hand over his cock so he could whisper, “This could be you.” Midas had to admit to himself that he didn’t want just anyone to fuck him; he wanted Brutus to do it. 

Golden palms ran over his throbbing dick and cradled his balls, squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure. His head lowered into the water and it rushed around his head weighing his hair down into his face. As he stroked, his mouth formed a little ‘o’ and he moaned out little _uh, uh, uh’s_ with every tug. It always felt good but it felt a thousand times better knowing that Brutus was right there to hear every little noise he made. 

“You okay in there, sir?” Brutus asked without turning around. 

Midas was a little disappointed but more so impressed with the other man’s restraint. 

“Mmm, so fucking good,” was his breathy response before a litany of _ah, ah, ah’s._

He opened his mouth to stick his tongue out and tilted his head back as the water rained down from the faucet. The water sprayed painfully into his eyes but he couldn’t have cared less when he was picturing the water as Brutus’s warm load shooting onto his face. Midas hunched back over to focus back on his cock which was already so close to finishing. If it hadn’t all been washed away by the shower, Midas could only imagine how much precum was leaking of him. 

“Fuck!” Midas shouted when he edged up to his orgasm. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” The other man’s head turned but not enough to see the debauchery happening behind him. 

“Ungh, fuck yeah,” he exhaled, even though the water drowned out his response. 

It didn’t take much longer after hearing Brutus’s gruff voice before his balls tightened up. Hot ribbons of cum shot onto the floor as he continued his rough strokes and tight squeezes on his balls. His legs gave out and he crumpled to the shower floor, his knees landing in the little bits of cum that hadn’t washed into the drain yet. His breathing was ragged as he sat there and tried to regain the strength to stand. Midas gave himself one last squeeze up, forcing out another dribble of semen that slid down his cock head. His eyes pinched shut as he moaned. 

Without another sound, he actually washed himself, drunkenness slowly leaving him. He was still a fair bit tipsy when he was done but he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself. Midas toweled his hair and put the cloth around his waist to walk out into his room. Before opening the door he realized that Brutus’s big silhouette was gone. The shame gripped his heart. Brutus had clearly been so uncomfortable and disgusted by Midas’s advances that he just _left_ _without a word_. He didn’t even have to have sex with his agent for the other man to become so ashamed and repulsed that he just _left_. 

The towel dropped from Midas’s hips. He walked to his bed naked and vulnerable. He pulled the sheets over his head, not caring that his hair was still sopping wet. Midas curled up and let the fear tear through his mind, convincing him that Brutus would hand in his two week notice within the next twenty four hours. 

_I like this job,_ he remembered Brutus saying earlier. 

And Midas had gone and forced him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Midas masturbating keeps me up at night; can you tell? 
> 
> Let's discuss.
> 
> Also, I PROMISE that Brutus will dick Midas down in the next chapter. Cheers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, so, so, so, so, so.... Lemme say real quick... First, I'm sorry this took so long! Things have been, how shall I say, fuckin' wild. And this chapter is longer than all the others so it took a hot sec. Also, typically I'm a plotter, not a pantser, but this entire story so far has been completely spur of the moment decisions plot wise, sooo.... yeah, I ain't used to that. Second, I borderline embarrassed myself as I wrote this! I am trash! However, I hope you dirty sinners still enjoy 'cause ya know, wink wink. 
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance because I did NOT proof read this AT ALL. Like, not even once. I'm a bad writing pupil. You've been warned.

An overwhelming swell of nausea woke him up before the sun rose. A groan that sounded more like a heaving gag made its way from his mouth. His back arched in discomfort as the sour bile rose in his throat before Midas sprung out of bed to have an early meeting with the toilet. Wet coughs echoed in the bathroom as he finished vomiting. His forehead rested on the bowl as he refused to look up and see the mess he created. He took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out just as another violent round of gagging wracked him. Thankfully, no one was there to see him looking truly pathetic. His hair was mussied, his eyes sunken and sallow, and he was still completely naked, wrapped around a toilet. Even the gold of his hands seemed a tad dimmer, like unpolished old jewelry. 

“This is why I don’t  _ fucking  _ drink,” he said as if reprimanding someone. Yet he knew he had no one to blame but himself. “This is why I don’t fucking  _ relax.” _

And because things couldn’t get much worse, he immediately remembered the night’s events. It’s fascinating, and a curse, the new perspective one gains once sober. The gentle pleading, the constant asking if Midas was okay, the eye contact… Midas was making the man excruciatingly uncomfortable the entire time and he had no idea. Of course alcohol tends to have that effect on people but Midas couldn’t help how miserable it made him. Not because he was the untouchable head of Ghost, the man with the golden touch who had a reputation to uphold, but because he overstepped with one of his top agents. Brutus kept drawing his line in the sand all day and Midas completely drowned him out.  _ I don’t think that would be appropriate, sir.  _ The words rattled in his skull. Midas wasn’t a spoiled man--he was used to  _ getting-- _ but he wasn’t so delusional as to think he was owed someone’s body or their comfort. It was the same for all his agents, if they wanted to leave he would see them off, and he would have to do the same for Brutus. 

Once Midas knew he had nothing left to expel, he walked back into bed. He stared into the darkness of his room with some pillows behind his back to keep him upright. Luckily, his head was only swimming, not pounding, but he did his best to ward off the nausea with some sips of water. Midas looked to his nightstand and pressed the home button on his phone. 04:32. 

“Disgusting,” he muttered to himself with a sneer. 

He was used to waking up at ungodly hours, but not with the taste of bile on his tongue. He wiped some sweat from his brow. For a long time he stayed like that, staring into the dark and clicking his tongue like that would erase the sour taste that had settled on it. When the sun started to peek its little red cap over the horizon, Midas finally checked his messages. 

Seventy six unread emails, two missed calls and a voicemail from Skye, and one missed call from Meowscles. After answering some emails and listening to Skye’s voicemail he felt a little more normal. All things considered he was looking forward to going back to work. It would not only be a welcome distraction but he wouldn’t have to see the iciness in Brutus’s gaze as he handed in his resignation. He texted his pilot to be ready in five. 

At 05:45, Midas walked out of his room, sling packed, and headed to the chopper. There was no large, suited man waiting outside his door to greet him, just another masked henchman. Midas just kept his head bowed to avoid eye contact. He liked Brutus; he was an honest, cut-to-the-chase, personable, strong, and intelligent man. It was a shame he forced someone like that away. Many of his other agents and henchman would be better off if they could be even a quarter the man Brutus was. And Midas didn’t just think that as Brutus’s boss, but as someone who  _ liked  _ him. 

When he sat in the helicopter, headset on, Midas texted Skye that he would be at the Agency soon. His head was still swimming a bit and the ride wasn’t helping his stomach, but he was able to manage without vomiting onto the landing skids. Once he got back, he practically fell out onto the helipad. Skye, who stood there waiting to greet him, gave him an odd look.

“Uhh, boss… I sent you out to your yacht to come back refreshed… Not looking worse than when I sent you!” she yelled over the roar of the helicopter rotors. 

Midas waited for the noise to calm before answering with a noncommittal grunt. 

“Did you even relax at all? You look like hell!” she said with a blend of amusement and concern in her voice. 

“I… Agent Skye, please bring to me the latest updates on the device. I need them in my office by...” he trailed off and looked at his phone then back up to Skye, “in fifteen minutes.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” she said with a mock salute. 

Midas trudged into his office, doing his best to come up with an agenda in his head. There was always so much to do and yet he still couldn’t think of how to prioritize his day. It was fleeting, but he thought about firing Brutus instead so he wouldn’t have to focus on the thought of him all day. He would no longer have to worry about when the man was going to send in his two weeks. 

For a moment, Midas’s heart picked up at the thought that after quitting, Brutus might actually join shadow. He wouldn’t do that, would he? There was no way that Midas humiliated himself so irreversibly that Brutus was willing to turn his back on the cause… If he did, Midas would be forced to send someone after him, maybe Maya, TNTina, or maybe he would go himself. He shook his head as if to knock the thought loose. Instead, Midas just sat in his chair and stared off at the wall. 

“Hey, boss, got those papers you ordered,” said Skye from outside his office. 

When Midas didn’t answer quick enough she started banging on the thick, steel door. He stood up and walked over to it, his feet barely picking up off the ground. It was obvious from how dark and sunken his eyes were that he couldn’t have been feeling good; when he opened the door and peeked out Skye clearly noticed. 

“ _Seriously._ How is it that in the couple of minutes since I last saw you you look _even_ _worse_?” Skye said with a short laugh that was more concerned than amused. 

“Just hand me the papers, Agent,” Midas bit out, his hand jerking through the slit in the door to grab the stack of documents. 

Skye tugged them away. 

“No. You don’t look good, Midas.”

He growled at the use of his name. 

“I’m serious,” she continued. “I’ve never seen you like this. I know you don’t exactly  _ want  _ to be forthcoming about what’s troubling you but… what’s wrong? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“And that’s why I will not be telling you. It’s not any of your concern and I don’t  _ need  _ help,” he snapped. 

Midas knew that he was taking his own frustrations out on someone who didn’t deserve it. Skye ran the Agency just fine while he was gone; granted nothing serious happened that warranted any real concern but still. She was willing to take the lead for a day just so he could relax and he had accepted. Anything that happened on the yacht had nothing to do with her--and he knew that--but he couldn’t help the way her softness seemed to rile him up more. Guilt ambushed him. He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the jamb of the door that was still slightly open. 

“Midas…” she whispered. 

She was his agent, not a friend. Yet she stuck her neck out for him, like a friend. He looked up at her, the sympathy written plainly across her face. He sighed. She could be a friend. At least with her, he still had time before he drove her away like he did with Brutus. Midas scooched himself out of the door frame to stand in front of her. Because of their height difference, even when he bowed his head so deeply to avoid looking at her, all she had to do was take a small step forward, head tilted up, to make their eyes meet. 

“I’m sorry, Skye,” he said, finally lifting his head. “I… can we talk? Somewhere else?” 

She nodded wordlessly and they walked in silence to one of the smaller conference rooms. It was still fairly big, but there wasn’t really anywhere else to go that was as private. Midas dropped his documents on the table in front of the head chair in hopes of putting a little distance between his seat and wherever Skye chose to sit. She ended up sitting right next to him, even scooting her chair a little closer, a shy smile on her face. A quiet cough sounded from her after sitting for some time in silence. 

“Ah, right, so… wow, I really don’t know where to begin,” Midas said, stumbling over his words. He took a deep breath before looking up and continuing, “First off, I’m sorry. I’ve been snapping at you and you don’t deserve that. You were only trying to help and I really appreciate it.”

She made a quiet, happy sounding noise and thanked him. 

“There was… a  _ lot  _ that happened on the boat. I don’t know whether to yell at you or thank you for sending Brutus, though,” he said with a slight self deprecating laugh. “You see, I--oh god, I do  _ not  _ want to say any of this to you. Not because it’s  _ you,  _ but because this is...” He leaned back in the chair and brought a hand to his head. “While on the yacht I may have developed some… feelings for him. At first they were just.. sexu--I mean, superficial. But, the next day we were by the pool and I couldn’t help but want to know more about him. You’re all my agents. And I respect each and every one of you as individuals. Not to say that I don’t want to get to know any of you--it’s that--well, I’ve always had this thing… with mixing pleasure with the professional.” 

He paused to look back at Skye to see if she was still following. She looked as if Midas was explaining theoretical particle physics. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused.

“It’s just ‘cause I never thought you could get… attached to someone? I don’t know. It’s just not what I was expecting to be bothering you,” she said with a shrug. 

“I’m not… attached. Regardless, I am human, you know,” he quipped. “As I was saying, I’ve never tried to get close to any of you because I can’t. You don’t need me to explain to you that this is a dangerous line of work. I don’t… I don’t want to  _ be  _ attached to any of you in the event that--well, you know.” He dragged a knuckle over the scar on his eye. “I already wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if any harm came to any of you but I could at least detach myself in some capacity. I wouldn’t know of any family who will miss you, any hobbies you’ll miss out on. When I see your favorite color it won’t remind me of you.”

His voice remained steady but he could feel himself slinking lower in his seat. Midas wrung his golden hands together in a pathetic attempt at focusing anywhere but Skye’s face. When he did look up at her, there were so many emotions behind her eyes he was having a hard time narrowing any of them down. So, instead of waiting for her to speak, he pressed on. 

“Still, I found myself wanting to break that one rule for him. I wanted to ask him about all of that. What was his childhood like? Did he have any siblings? Anything beyond what type of military or martial arts training he had. And I know I look like a dead thing Meowscles would drag home, but I did try to relax, Skye. I did, just maybe a little too much.” He laughed at himself again. “I got pretty drunk last night which apparently made me blind to any proverbial lines in the sand which made Brutus very uncomfortable. So uncomfortable in fact that he left without a word and I haven’t seen him since. I expect he will be handing in his resignation in the very near future. I wouldn’t blame him, if I’m being truthful.”

Silence lingered between them like the smell of stale cigarettes. Midas straightened himself before putting his head in his hands on the table. He heard her open her mouth but no words came out for a while. All she did was lean back with a “huh.” Midas laid his palms flat on the table and looked up, stretching. Being in the room with a silent Skye made him squirm. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Skye finally began, “you are attracted to Brutus. You want to get to know him but you feel like you can’t so you won’t be as afraid if he gets hurt. Last night, you got drunk--which I always wanted to see by the way so I’m mad I wasn’t there--and you think you made him so uncomfortable he’s going to, heh, jump ship, and leave his position? Midas, let me tell you something. Me, Brutus, Meowscles, Tina, Maya, we all hang out with each other after work. We’re all  _ friends.” _

Midas opened his mouth to cut her off and ask her how that was relevant but she ignored him. 

“We all know that stuff about each other, hobbies, favorite movies, all the good stuff. The only one we don’t know anything about is you. None of us have ever thought that made you a bad person, by the way. But, let’s say, if Tina got hurt or something, would I be inconsolable for a bit? Yeah, but would she want me to carry on and still be good at my job? Yeah. Would losing any of my friends hurt? Fuck yes. But for one thing, I would still have a support system. Not to mention, if anything happened to  _ you,  _ I’d be fucking hurt. And I don’t need to know anything about you to still feel that way. I know you’re my boss and I’m just your agent, but we all do care about you. Is any of that making sense? I feel like I’m just rambling at you.”

Midas swallowed hard. He knew exactly what she was trying to say but trying to override a philosophy he’d drilled into himself made him twitchy. Perhaps if he was someone else he would feel tears prickle at his lashes, but he offered Skye a small smile. She smiled back.

“If you all already feel that way… Well, I would like to get to know all of you, too,” he said before reminding himself Brutus likely wouldn’t accept a friendship from him; he was too late. Midas could feel his face fall and Skye put a hand over his, then knocked on it with her fist and laughed.   
“Getting punched by you would really hurt I bet,” she joked. He tried to chuckle back but it just came out like a sigh. 

“I doubt Brutus would want to get to know me any more at this point,” Midas said after a time. Skye clucked her tongue at him. 

“First of all, what did you  _ do?  _ Second, I told you, we’re all friends, so I know Brutus. I doubt what you did could’ve scared him off,” she said with a laugh. Her smile was always genuine and Midas couldn’t help but mirror it, even if it lacked any real joy. 

“Ahem, I, uh, may have… propositioned him. While intoxicated. After, what do you call it,  _ hooking up  _ with a stranger. And this was the night after he caught me in a…  _ vulnerable  _ position,” he trailed off. 

Skye cackled and slammed her hand on the table. She laughed so hard she took her hat off to run her fingers through her hair. When she was done a bright blush settled over her cheeks. She apologized with another light chuckle. 

“Midas,” she said with complete seriousness. It was unsettling hearing her tone flip so quickly. “If you ever get drunk like that again and I’m not there I will kill you.”

He snorted before promising her she would be there for the next party. Even though in his head he knew that he would never reach that state ever again. 

“So, do you think he’s going to leave Ghost?” Midas muttered.

“Hah, not in a million years. We’re all here because we are dedicated to the cause first and foremost. But I do think you should talk to him, though. It’s not really my place to say what’s what and put words in Brutus’s mouth but I think you might be surprised with how it goes,” she told him. 

Midas couldn’t help but feel like Skye wasn’t revealing all her cards but he didn’t want to push. It was scary having to renege on his own rule but there was a bit of comfort in knowing that he wouldn’t have to be so private all the time. There were security reasons for it, but it did get exhausting. Not to mention, the idea of having an inner circle already took a bit of the weight off his shoulders. He could share concerns with them, albeit not all of them, but the little things he always bottled up. Perhaps one of his agents also shared a passion for drawing. 

“I honestly don’t even know where he is,” Midas admitted. He tried throwing himself back into work so quickly that he hadn’t even let most of the crew know he was leaving. Although there was the possibility that Brutus took a powerboat back to the Grotto immediately after leaving Midas’s room. 

Skye shrugged.

“You have a phone. Just call him.” She snorted like it was obvious.

The thought of calling him, made Midas’s palms feel clammy even though it was physically impossible. He scratched at his neck while Skye looked at him expectantly. 

“If you don’t call him, I will,” she threatened. 

“Okay, okay,” Midas said as he reached into his pocket. 

He waited for her to leave so he could call, but she just sat there with a knowing smile across her lips. Midas flicked a golden hand at her to get her to shoo and she did after some light protests. Once the door out of the meeting room clicked shut, he unlocked his phone and brought up Brutus’s contact. His finger hovered over the call button. Midas gently tapped it before he lost what little nerve he did have. Part of him hoped the light touch wouldn’t register but he heard the busy signal forcing his heartbeat into overdrive. It didn’t take long before his agent picked up. 

“Hello?” Brutus greeted. 

“Good morning, agent,” Midas said, trying to sound normal, but it came out stilted. 

The silence that hung between them was suffocating. Midas felt like he was gasping for air as he wiped at his face. Brutus was clearly waiting for his boss to instruct him in some way, let him lead the conversation, but Midas had nowhere to take the conversation. He wasn’t even sure what to ask. 

“What, uh, what is your position, agent?” Midas asked, putting his phone on speaker to lay it on the table. He shook out his hands like he was trying to fling the gold off. 

“I returned to the Grotto, as per your orders,” Brutus told him. 

“I don’t remember sending you back there…” Midas said, not as a challenge but genuinely confused. 

“Well, when I returned to my post outside your door this morning, the henchman who I was relieving told me you had already left the ship. As I understand it you left  _ very  _ early, while I was still asleep. And since you were no longer there, my services on the yacht were no longer required. I returned to my full time station,” the other man explained. 

So  _ that  _ was why Brutus wasn’t there that morning. He wasn’t avoiding his boss, at least that didn’t seem to be the case, he was just alternating his post. But that didn’t explain why the man left the night before. Brutus hadn’t said anything to him when he left that night, which wasn’t usual protocol. Although Midas didn’t really have an interest in hashing it out over the phone, some of his anxieties were already being lessened ever so slightly knowing that Brutus wasn’t avoiding him that morning. 

“There are… some things I would like to discuss with you, Brutus. But I would like to do it in person. I feel as though you deserve that,” Midas said before quickly clarifying: “Nothing bad!” 

“Okay,” Brutus said slowly. “Should I take a chopper to your location?” 

“Mm, yes. Yes, I think it’s better dealt with today,” Midas responded. 

Another silence wedged itself between them. It wasn’t cripplingly awkward as it had been previously, but Midas’s skin still itched for it to be over. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“So, what say you? In an hour?” Midas finally piped up. 

Brutus agreed and they left with a brief back and forth of “see you then.”

Despite feeling a little calmer, Midas wasn’t sure how to keep his hands busy as he waited. He had the important documents Skye gave him to look over but he knew his mind wouldn’t be at all capable to actually process them. If his nerves weren’t already fried from being hungover, they were from that phone call. The short walk back to his office felt like a hike up the tallest mountain on the island. Content with being the world’s worst leader for a little while longer, he stared at the clock waiting for an hour to tick down to nothing. The whole time his fingertips and toes tingled, forcing him out of his chair to pace. So, maybe his anxiety hadn’t gone down by that much. 

When the hour went in excruciating slowness, Midas could hear a chopper land on the helipad. He looked out his window to see Brutus step out, looking stoic if not a tad nervous. For a moment he thought of going outside to lead him in, but his feet stayed put. Once Brutus was gone from his line of sight, he stood by the door to wait for him. Before his agent could land two knocks on the door, Midas opened it. Because of the man’s sunglasses, Midas couldn’t tell if his eyes landed on the inside of his office or on him. 

“Hello, sir,” said Brutus, voice low. 

“Hello, Brutus. We should--actually why don’t you just come in here?” said Midas, shocking himself. 

He expected Brutus to protest--no one ever goes in his office--but he didn’t. Midas stepped aside and held the door open for Brutus to walk in. Quickly, Midas realized maybe it wasn’t the best place to talk since he didn’t have any other chairs, just his, the desk, and endless filing cabinets. Still, he took his seat and apologized at the lack of other options. Brutus assured him it was fine and stood at attention in front of the large Dalbergia wood desk. Before yet another unbearable silence broke out between them, Midas spoke. 

“The first thing I want to put out there is that my behavior yesterday was in no way acceptable. It was abhorrent and distasteful in every way, and I am very sorry.” Midas made sure to make eye contact with the other man as he apologized. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable I was making you, and I never should have propositioned you in that way. I never want you to feel uncomfortable like that again, at least not by my doing.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure how to continue but he knew he wasn’t ready for Brutus to speak yet. The other man must’ve noticed because he let Midas have a second to collect his thoughts. 

“I—I know that I haven’t made an effort to get to know any of you and that is my fault. I suppose yesterday was a manifestation of my discomfort with my lack of personal life, among other things. I—I honestly don’t know what else to say, but I am very sorry for how uncomfortable I made you. You left my room last night without a word, I cannot imagine the stress I put you under considering I am your boss. I understand if you would like to  _ discontinue  _ your work with Ghost, or if you would like to work in an environment where communication between us would be minimal.”

Once Midas finished speaking, he looked back to Brutus for any signal as to how he was feeling. There was none. He turned his chair to the side to avoid staring at him for longer than appropriate. Midas could’ve searched the man’s face for hours and found no indication of being upset, relieved, annoyed, anything. It felt like awkward silences were becoming a regular for them and Midas rubbed at the back of his neck hoping the coolness of the gold would give him some relief from the heat in the room. It didn’t 

“I…” Brutus started with a face that said he was choosing his words carefully, “appreciate you saying that, sir. I understand what alcohol can do to people. That being said, I don’t think you need to apologize. I left your room last night to give you privacy so that when you left your shower I wouldn’t stand there, uh, gawking at you. Last night was…  _ entertaining,  _ to say the least _.”  _ There was a small smile that had grown on Brutus’s lips as he spoke. Did Brutus just openly admit that he enjoyed watching Midas that night? That he would have openly stared at and ogled his body? It sounded like it to Midas, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. His saliva felt thick in his mouth. 

“Hah, is that so? Well, Skye was quite upset to find out that I drank without her there, so maybe we should do it again sometime? I mean, not to that level, but--”

Brutus cut Midas off with a laugh. He walked forward to the edge of Midas’s desk and leaned over it casually. 

“That sounds great, sir. I would actually like getting to know you. Besides that you have a sweet tooth and are somewhere between twenty seven and thirty three,” Brutus said with a chuckle that made Midas blush. Golden hands brushed through his hair as he tried to decide whether or not Brutus was flirting with him. 

“And I would like to get to know you, too. You strike me as a very interesting type, agent,” said Midas leaning towards Brutus. It felt like they kept getting closer to one another without realizing, as if there was a little magnet doing its best to close the space between them. Brutus tilted his head down to look over his glasses.  _ Oh god,  _ Midas thought,  _ he’s looking at my lips.  _ It made his eyeline drop to the other man’s mouth which was still curved up in a shy smile. 

Midas didn’t know what lit the fire under his ass, but whatever it was he was glad for it because soon he was leaning in, inches from Brutus’s face. For a short while, they just breathed in each other’s air. Midas’s fingertips pressed hard into his desk as he bent over it. It was unclear who made the final move to bring their lips together but it burned in the best way. It was slow at first, gentle even, as their lips pressed together. Midas got on his tippy toes to deepen the kiss and Brutus responded by bringing a hand up to cup the back of Midas’s neck. His palms were massive and intimidating but kind and tender. Midas sighed into it and tilted his head as they picked up their languid pace. 

When they broke apart after a minute or two, they both chuckled--warm, soft noises that mingled together in what could only be described as the sound of relief and happiness. Midas backed up from the desk to walk around to the other side. He wrapped his golden fingers around the other man’s lapel and brought their bodies close together. 

“I like you, you know,” whispered Midas. “I’m sorry how I went about it, and I hope you’re not just letting me kiss you because you feel pressured.”

Brutus snickered before gently chiding him. 

“You don’t give me enough credit. You think _I_ would let you kiss me if I didn’t want it? Sir, you really do need to get to know me.”  
“I suppose you’re right,” said Midas after a short laugh. “Now I’d really like to go back to our… previous activity.”

Brutus lowered his hands from Midas’s shoulders down to his lower back, right above his ass. Golden hands clenched tighter as he thought Brutus would go back to kissing him but instead brought his mouth to the shell of his boss’s ear. 

“It was really hot watching you make out with that other guy yesterday, even if it drove me fucking crazy. Watching you dance like that… I was surprised you didn’t see how hard I was,” brutus whispered hotly. 

Midas groaned and jerked Brutus down to continue kissing him. Their bodies slotted together by what felt like the workings of the universe, their movements hot and frantic. Mouths melded over one another perfectly as they grabbed at each other. Midas was almost embarrassed how all it took for him to become that desperate was Brutus’s whispered confession. Although not embarrassed enough to stop his hands from undoing the other man’s belt to pull his pants down. Midas’s erection throbbed as it pressed against the front of his slacks and he dragged Brutus’s hands to his front in a silent instruction to  _ take them off, please.  _ As brutus got to work on his slacks, Midas undid the buttons on his vest and shirt after throwing his holsters to the side. The loud thunk wasn’t enough to tear their lips apart and they remained fused together only to break away intermittently to pant into each other’s mouths. 

Midas ripped his tie off ignoring the way his gold tie clip clattered to the ground; he could make himself a new one. When both of them were finally, thankfully naked, Midas snaked his hands up and down Brutus’s body before landing at his thick cock. It was massive and flushed and it made Midas gulp. He wasn’t sure if or how he could swallow it, let alone get it in his ass. Still, he was determined to try and knelt down, banging his knees harshly against the tile floor. Brutus made a noise halfway between happy and  _ fucked  _ as Midas gave it a few strokes before taking as much of it into his mouth as he could. He tried to be as sloppy as possible, getting as much spit around it as he could to try and make up for the harsh metal of his hands. One of his previous partners said his handjobs felt like fucking a tin can. 

“Do my hands hurt you?” Midas said, popping his mouth off Brutus’s dick.

Brutus put a hand on the back of Midas’s head to lead him back onto his dick while telling him, “No, they feel fucking perfect.” 

Midas smiled and brought his tongue out to tease the head of the other man’s penis, already tasting the first little releases of precum. It made him reach his other hand down to slowly stroke himself because he  _ needed it.  _ From above him, Midas could hear Brutus panting and moaning as he grabbed fistfuls of Midas’s coal colored hair. It made him gag, desperate to take more into his mouth so the other man would grab and pull and tug harder. After going back and forth between teasing and swallowing as much of Brutus’s length as he was physically capable, Midas stood up to bring his arms around Brutus’s neck. 

“Fuck me, please,” he whispered. 

Brutus growled and picked Midas up from under his legs. They crashed onto his desk, moaning. 

“I want your cock inside of me,” Midas said, reaching down to grab Brutus’s hips and bring them flush together. Brutus’s cock glided over Midas’s and they sighed into each other’s necks. 

“I never would’ve guessed you have quite the mouth on you,” Brutus answered. “But I don’t think we have any… products. So…” He trailed off as he got to  _ his  _ knees. Brutus nosed at Midas’s ass, spreading his cheeks. It was even sloppier the way he sighed and spit and pushed his tongue into Midas’s tight asshole. Midas gripped at his own cheeks to keep them spread for easier access. Brutus brought his fingers to Midas’s mouth for him to suck on as he brought his tongue in and out and in and out, plunging ruthlessly. Midas covered Brutus’s fingers in as much saliva as he could muster before Brutus gently pressed a finger inside to take place of his tongue. Midas made a slutty, fucked out noise and his head dropped with a loud thunk onto his desk. He heard Brutus chuckle as he slowly worked Midas up to three fingers as he tongued at his balls. 

“Wait, wait,” Midas said as Brutus stood to line his cock up, “Fuck me up against the windows. I want to see everyone pass by as you pound my ass. It’s one-way glass, they won’t see.” 

“Goddamn,” was all Brutus could say in response. 

They rushed, practically tripped, over to the window and Midas pressed his hands up against the pane, pushing his ass out like an invitation. Brutus accepted after carefully spitting onto his dick for some extra lubrication. As soon as the head of his cock pushed into Midas’s hole, he moaned so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the henchmen doing their rotations outside looked toward the windows. It was a little painful, but once Brutus’s cock was fully seated inside him, Midas started to slowly grind back into him. the rhythmic fleshy slaps of their hips only encouraged the litany of  _ ah fuck, ah fuck, ah fucks  _ from Midas’s drooling mouth. He couldn’t even imagine how fucked out he already looked. 

It didn’t take long before Midas’s tight little asshole relaxed enough to greedily swallow Brutus’s hard length. The bigger man’s heavy balls smacked into him with every thrust and Midas wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last. His head bowed as he brought his forehead to rest against the cool glass. A bit of drool made its way past his lips and dribbled down the window.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” Brutus chanted into the shoulder of the smaller man. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“I want you to come, Brutus. I want you to come all over my ass,” Midas sighed out. 

He looked ahead to see all the henchmen pacing outside. If only everyone could see the way Brutus was fucking into his ass. The way his thick, pulsing cock was slamming into him, buried to the hilt. The thought made Midas near about _ scream _ . They would all have to watch their strait-laced, aloof, untouchable boss get his ass violated. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come, Midas. Gonna cover you in it,” Brutus growled. 

Midas all but  _ wailed _ at the use of his name by his agent. 

“Yeah? Oh, yeah. Give it to me. I’m gonna come,” Midas warned. 

He picked up the pace that he had going over his own dick, which was dribbling copious amounts of precum over his fist. Everything was slick and sweaty and he loved every second of it. His orgasm built up, his balls heavy and ready to burst. Midas’s toed curled as the heat in his belly became unbearable and he finally released. Cum spurted out of his cock and dribbled down the window, mixing with the drool that was accumulating there. 

“Ah, fuck!” Midas yelled because his orgasm just  _ kept going.  _ There was so much sliding down the window pane but he found himself wanting to keep it there, a dirty reminder of the first time him and Brutus fucked. 

“Oh, shit,” he heard Brutus exclaim from behind him. The other man pulled out and Midas could feel his fist pump over himself until his hot release was all over Midas’s back and ass. A little bit slid down into his open hole and he licked his lips. He brought his golden hands down from the window to rub at any part of Brutus he could touch. 

“God _ damn,”  _ Brutus sighed with a soft chuckle. Both of their orgasms had started to subside and Midas’s legs became a little wobbly. He went to sit down before remembering he was covered in cum. Grabbing a few tissues off his desk, he wiped himself down.  __

“You gonna get the window?” Brutus asked, jerking a thumb toward the mess that was still dripping down the pane. 

“I think I’ll leave it for a little bit longer,” said Midas, crossing his arms and sitting down. 

Even though they didn’t exchange words for a little bit, the silence was soothing. The two men looked at each other and smiled. Brutus walked over to Midas and gathered up his golden hands into his. 

He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on Midas's lips before asking: 

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a trip, amirite? Anyway, I really wanna know if you guys think I should write them going on their first date. Like should I continue this or leave it where it's at? I'm curious what you guys want. 'Cause if you guys would look forward to that and want to read more, how could I say no? 
> 
> Leave me some kudos if you want or a comment I can think about as I fall asleep at night.


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